Chapter 4: Of Bad Luck and Tragic Circumstance
Scarlett O'Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler stood at the lofty windows of the store, observing the people traversing across the Main Street with a wealth of tears upon her porcelain-white face. Rhett was gone; his most recent letter stated that under the terms of their divorce she would receive the value of what she had brought into their marriage. Charles's property, Frank's store, and the saloon…and nothing else. The house was to be hers to live in at no charge, but she would have to provide for the staff. The cook had had to be let go, and she had to beg Mammy to return from Tara to look after Wade and Ella since Prissy now was responsible for all of the cleaning and the majority of the cooking. She's a horrible cook, Scarlett fumed.
She had been horribly hurt by Rhett's intentions, and not only because of the money. She missed him for his company, his laughter, and the exuberant passion with which he lived life. She had learned to appreciate it, far too late. She had failed to see him for what he was, her perfect match in every way. But now, his heart was so far turned against her that there would be no more hope for recovery or reconciliation.
But it's Christmas Eve, Scarlett remembered quickly. She needed to hurry to the bank to deposit the month's profits which totaled eight thousand dollars. She had taken to holding onto the money herself, as the Panic of Wall Street had finally reached Atlanta, and none of the banks were infallible. She trusted, however, in seasonal goodwill. Surely there would be no bank scare on Christmas!
"Mrs. Butler?" Harry, one of the store clerks interrupted her concentration.
"Yes, Harry, what is it?"
"That man from the government is coming at three, ma'am. With the Panic going on, all the businesses have to present their bank statements and account books for inspection. I told him that three would be convenient, ma'am."
"That'll be fine, Harry. We've done rather well this month. I'll see to it you get a fine Christmas bonus, Harry. You've been mighty good this year."
"Thank you, ma'am. You're very kind."
"Fiddle-dee-dee. I like hard workers, that's all. Well run along, Harry. Sweep the store, would you? It wouldn't hurt to tidy things up a bit for the gentleman."
She carefully picked up her armload of parcels, placing the money on the top in a small white envelope. Scarlett grabbed her fox-fur cape and fashionable matching hat, one of the last luxury items she had bought with Rhett's money, and hurried toward the bank. I've done alright without him, she thought with a self-satisfied smirk. He was hoping to lick me, well, I've shown him that Scarlett O'Hara doesn't lay down and die when troubles come.
She was still dreaming of ways in which to tell him off when she ran directly into India Wilkes, draped from head to toe in the black crepe of mourning.
"Oh India, you're still living," Scarlett said snidely over India's outraged cry.
"I'll thank you to pay attention to where you're walking," India scoffed, reclaiming her own parcels.
Scarlett noted that India had been at the dressmakers'. Perhaps she was going to drop the mourning garb after New Year and try to find herself a husband, Scarlett thought with a stab of devilish delight.
"I suppose it wouldn't pain you too much for me to inquire as to the wellbeing of my nephew and brother-in-law?"
"It wouldn't pain me at all to tell you to leave Ashley alone! He's crazed with grief, maddened by it. The last thing he needs is you dallying with him with the hope of entrapping him into marriage. God knows you've tried hard enough. But it will be over my dead body that you ever put those notions into action."
"Are you quite finished?" Scarlett smiled sweetly. "Well in that case, I shan't feel at all guilty in extending an invitation to Ashley and Beau to dine with my children and I tonight. I would invite you, India dear, but I wouldn't want to offend your guiltless ears with my notions of enjoying the holiday. Good day to you."
With an imperious nod of her head, Scarlett collected her parcels and continued towards the bank. Still huffing at the indignity the quite public verbal sparring match, India grabbed her own parcels angrily and discovered, to her arch surprise, a small white envelope, loaded with more greenbacks than she had seen in her entire life. This is Scarlett's money, she thought with a thrill. How wonderfully just the Almighty was! Oh, perhaps she should return it. No. Scarlett had done nothing save for humiliate and hurt her over the years. Payback was a dish best served cold, and no one in the entire city wanted to serve it as much as India Wilkes. Dismissing her remaining scruples, India stuffed the envelope into the pocket of her cloak and headed in the direction of the milliner.
Scarlett pranced prettily into the bank, hoping that Rhett would be in his office and would be so attracted by her hard work ethic and good looks that he would ravish her instantly. Everything would be alright then. With the happy thoughts foremost in her mind, Scarlett smiled as she approached the teller and handed him her paperwork.
"Madam, I suppose you have forgotten something."
"Pardon?"
"You forgot something, Madam."
"Well? What might that be?"
"Well, aren't you going to make a deposit, Madam?"
"Of course, how thick are you? Of course I am."
"Well, then . . it's usually customary to bring the money with you."
"Fiddle-dee-dee! Oh the nerve of you, playing tricks on me. And on Christmas too, shame on you!"
"Madam, there is no money accompanying this deposit slip."
Scarlett stared at the man with a bewildered expression upon her face. "I had it, I did…I
know I did…Well, I…"